


Take It Off

by mistleto3



Series: Sarufem!mi [9]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Bondage, Costume Kink, F/M, Halloween, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rule 63, Smut, Yata Halloween Challenge, misaru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistleto3/pseuds/mistleto3
Summary: Misaki tries her best to get a reluctant Saruhiko interested in Halloween.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a drabble prompt on tumblr sent by theotakufairy from [this](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/141143377354/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you) list.
> 
> For the [Yata Halloween Challenge 2016.](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/150641845504/yata-halloween-challenge)
> 
> This fic is also available on [Tumblr.](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/152530903599/take-it-off)

A yelp of fright issued from inside Saruhiko’s apartment as he pushed the door open, and he was greeted by a wide-eyed, affronted-looking Misaki. This had been the fourth night in a row that Saruhiko had gotten home to find their apartment pitch dark except for the dim glow of the television screen. The flickering light illuminated the shape of his girlfriend, curled up on the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest and a blanket around her shoulders.

“Are you still watching bad horror movies?” There was a faintly amused smirk on his face as he raised an eyebrow at her.

“They’re classics!” Misaki protested. “And it’s almost Halloween; that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

Saruhiko shrugged. “Not a fan,” he said, flipping the lights on.

“Hey, you ruined the atmosphere!”

“Didn’t the subtitles already ruin the atmosphere?” He glanced at the screen.

“Shut up. We dropped out of middle school; of course my English is gonna be a bit rusty.”

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. “’Rusty’ is being generous.”

Misaki grabbed a pillow from the couch and tossed it at his head, which he caught with a chuckle.

“What’s your problem with Halloween, anyway?” Misaki asked with a pout.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a Western holiday that big companies are only pushing over here so they can make money off it.”

“You’re such a damn conspiracy theorist. Lighten up, will you?”

“I don’t get all the fuss. It’s just an excuse for a load of grown-ass people to dress up in cheap costumes and get drunk.”

“You’re no fun at all, are you?”

Saruhiko rolled his eyes.

“Well, _I_ think it’s fun. You just have no inner child so you don’t get it. Have you ever even done anything for Halloween?”

“Nah.”

“Well, don’t knock it until you try it. Isn’t Sceptre 4 doing a Halloween party? We should go.”

“How did you know about that?”

“…I overheard Kusanagi-san talking to Awashima-san about it.”

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at her sceptically.

Misaki chewed her lip, and her resolve broke instantly; she’d never been a good liar. “…Okay, and Hidaka may or may not have asked me to help him talk you into going.”

Saruhiko looked disgruntled; ever since Misaki met Akira on a whilst delivering Saruhiko’s forgotten lunch to the Blue Clan’s headquarters, they’d formed something of an alliance in their mutual desire to coddle him, much to his irritation. It was bad enough having the two of them pestering him separately, but united, they magnified one another’s efforts to fuss over him.

“I don’t know why you care so much,” Saruhiko grumbled.

“Because you never get out. You’re in your prime, you ought to live a little.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “I don’t understand why I have to wear a dumb costume and waste time at a party I don’t want to go to in order to ‘live.’ I’m alive right now, aren’t I?” His tone was heavy with sarcasm.

“You know what I mean.”

Saruhiko simply clicked his tongue and changed the subject. “What’s in for dinner?”

Misaki jumped to her feet and padded into the kitchen, ever eager to make sure he was eating properly, but the distraction only briefly put a stop to the scheming that had already been set in motion inside her head.

* * *

“Oi, Saruhiko, I bought you something,” Misaki called out as she closed the door of their apartment behind her.

Saruhiko looked up at her over the screen of his laptop from his seat on the couch. “Hm?”

“Hang on a sec,” she told him, disappearing into the bathroom with one of the bags she’d come in with. She emerged a few minutes later with a pair of furry ears poking out from amongst her hair. The shirt she’d changed into was tattered and stained with fake blood, and when she bared her teeth, her lips pulled back to expose a set of yellowing fake fangs.

“What on earth is that?” Saruhiko raised an eyebrow incredulously at her.

“It’s a werewolf costume for the Halloween party. This isn’t the whole thing; there’s makeup and fluffy legwarmers and stuff, but I can’t be bothered to put it all on now. I bought you one too, a vampire costume. Figured it’d suit you, seeing as you’re all pale and creepy already.”

Saruhiko huffed. “I don’t wanna go to this party enough already without having to wear a tacky costume. Dress up is for kids; just take it off already.”

“Come on, you should at least try yours on, or just _look_ at it before you decide you don’t like it.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue at her, but didn’t say anything.

Misaki rolled her eyes. “You’re such a Grinch,” she grumbled, then returned to the bathroom to remove the costume. As she returned the shirt to its hanger, she let out a sigh; despite having no expectations that Saruhiko would agree to try on the costume, she couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. She’d never celebrated Halloween with him before- the only parties she’d been to had been hosted at Homra after Saruhiko had left the clan- and it seemed like it could be fun.

 _Oh well._  

As she went to place it back in the carrier bag, she hesitated, her eyes flickering between the pile of clothing in her hands and the folded blue garment in the bag.

_Time for plan B._

Misaki took a deep breath to steady herself as, with shaking hands, she lifted the dress from the bag and held it up against her body, examining her reflection in the mirror tentatively. She chewed her lip, acutely aware of the colour accumulating in her cheeks.

_It’s a long shot... but what is there to lose?_

As soon as Misaki had fastened herself into the costume, she decided that there was indeed plenty to lose. She desperately avoided looking in the mirror any more than absolutely necessary, having decided that this whole venture was a giant step too humiliating for her liking. But it was too late to back down now. Her stubbornness warred briefly with her mortification, until finally, stubbornness won out.

_There is no way in hell I’m telling Hidaka about this._

Misaki took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom.

“W-what’s this about dress up being for kids?” she called out to Saruhiko, cringing as the delivery of (at least, what she thought was) a clever line was marred by a nervous stutter.

When Saruhiko looked up at her, he spluttered in shock.

To put it bluntly, Misaki was a bit of a prude. As much as she evidently enjoyed sex when they got into it- hell, she initiated more than he did- she still struggled with her hang-ups about discussing it, or venturing into anything that would be considered a little more than vanilla. It wasn’t until they got down to it and she was too aroused to concentrate on her embarrassment that she’d finally let herself go. Not that Saruhiko was complaining, there was something sort of cute about her bashfulness, especially when it was so obviously competing with her hormones. But he still appreciated that it was a struggle for her to express her sexuality.

So, seeing her dressed like this was the _last_ thing he was expecting.

The dark blue, button-down dress she wore clung to every curve of her body; its hem barely reached a few inches down her thigh, and the top buttons were unfastened, baring a glimpse of her cleavage. A strip of her lace suspenders peaked from under the hem of the dress, stretching across the inch of bare thigh to fasten to her stockings.

_Holy shit…_

There was a silver police badge pinned to the fabric over her breast, and a pair of handcuffs hung from the belt at her waist; they jingled quietly as she stepped over, the heels of her black knee-high boots clicking against the floor tiles.

Saruhiko cleared his throat. “Misaki…”

She didn’t say anything; her chest heaved as she took deep breaths to steady herself. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she crossed the room towards him, her cheeks burning.

Saruhiko could see Misaki’s legs shaking as she climbed onto the sofa to straddle him. His hands flew to her waist as she knelt over him, partly to steady her, and partly because he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Their lips quickly found one another’s, and despite her evident nerves, there was a sort of clumsy eagerness in the way Misaki kissed him.

In truth, Saruhiko had always had his suspicions that Misaki may have had a bit of a uniform kink- her eyes followed him around the room a little more persistently than usual when he was in his work gear- but he’d never expected anything like _this_ from her. Her assertiveness had come as even more of a surprise; unless she was already pretty into it, Misaki was usually too shy to take the lead. But the way her hands wandered across his chest and up his arms, and the way her tongue pressed past his lips suggested that trend might be about to change. She lifted Saruhiko’s hands from her waist and pressed his wrists against the couch above his head, holding them in place with one hand, and Saruhiko didn’t struggle against her grip. He was intrigued to find out where she was going with this, and frankly, he didn’t think he could overpower her in a battle of brute strength. Her kisses became a little hungrier with every passing moment, nipping at his bottom lip as she pressed her body against his…

_Click._

While Saruhiko had been distracted, he hadn’t noticed the handcuffs close around his wrist. He looked up in surprise, and Misaki chuckled at the shocked expression on his face, but she evidently hadn’t missed the shiver that had run down his spine at the realisation of what she’d done.

“Misaki?” He raised an eyebrow at her, trying his best to look composed, but his cheeks were beginning to warm and his shoulders were rising a little higher than usual as his breath quickened. He’d taken quite a liking to assuming the submissive role for once, and as much as it would injure his pride later to know he’d been put in his place like this (by someone who was quite considerably smaller than him), he was perfectly content to allow it for now.

Misaki didn’t answer him, seeming to have steeled herself a little by now. Her movements weren’t so shaky any more, and beneath the nervousness in her eyes, Saruhiko could see a little glimmer of lust burning. She lifted herself up on her knees, and Saruhiko peppered kisses down her neck and down to her cleavage as she did so. She ended up with her knee propped against the back of the sofa, beside Saruhiko’s head, his face pressed to her groin. As she parted her legs to steady herself against the couch, the hem of her skirt hitched up, exposing the black lace of her underwear.

“T-take it off,” Misaki told him, evidently trying to be assertive, but the waver in her voice detracted from the effect somewhat.

“Hmm?” Saruhiko looked up at her, quirking an eyebrow, and he gave a gentle tug on the restraints on his wrist as if to ask how exactly he was supposed to do that.

Misaki cleared her throat. “You heard me. Take. It. Off.” Her voice was steadier this time, more demanding, and Saruhiko’s breath hitched as he realised what she wanted him to do.

“You mean… like this?” His gaze locked with hers as he leaned in and caught the hem of her underwear between his teeth, then slowly eased it down, watching the goosebumps spread across her stomach as he did so.

Misaki swore under her breath as the fabric slid down her thighs, watching him intently until the garment was around her knees, when she fumbled to kick it off. As she removed them, she leaned backwards away for him for a moment, and his head followed her movements, his forehead pressed to her belly the whole time.

As soon as she’d freed herself from her underwear, she rocked her hips forward, pinning his head against the upholstery once more and eliciting a gasp from her lover. She shivered as she felt his breath ghost across her bare skin. Almost instantly, Saruhiko’s tongue darted out to sweep across her clit, and Misaki let out a whimper as he tasted her. As much as Saruhiko had never seen her this eager before, equally, it was rare for her to see _him_ like this; it was rare he allowed himself to get so desperate, but his yearning was betrayed by how hungrily he buried his head between her thighs, lapping at the wetness that had accumulated there as he pressed his lips to her and sucked on the flesh.

“F-fuck…” Misaki’s voice was lower than usual, gruffer. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she rolled her hips instinctively towards his mouth.

Any semblance of Saruhiko’s usual reservation had crumbled by now, and he clawed at the upholstery beneath his bound fingers as he gasped for breath. His erection strained uncomfortably against the fabric of his trousers, and every time Misaki pressed his head against the sofa, his hips twitched upwards towards her. A low groan rolled in his chest, muffled where his lips pressed to her skin, and Misaki hissed at the vibrations.

As the moments dragged by, each one seeming longer than the last, the noises in Saruhiko’s throat grew higher, more desperate, until he was almost whining. Misaki clamped her teeth around her lip at the sound. He almost sounded like he could be begging, and another ripple of goosebumps spread up her spine at the thought.

Evidently, Misaki couldn’t bear the sound for long, and Saruhiko whimpered as she pulled away from him. His cheeks were flushed deep pink, his hair was tousled, and little red marks had been indented into the bridge of his nose where Misaki’s stomach had pressed his slightly-askew glasses into his skin. Their lenses had fogged up, and Misaki removed them, discarding them onto the coffee table before catching his lips in another rough kiss. His lips were slick from the wetness between her thighs, and she could taste herself on them.

As their mouths crushed together, Misaki’s fingers found their way to Saruhiko’s chest to begin pulling open the buttons with fumbling hands. She was shaking again, but this time it didn’t seem to be out of anxiety. She had his shirt open in a matter of seconds, baring a swath of the pale skin beneath, but not removing the garment; she was in too much of a hurry to bother with that.

As soon as Saruhiko’s chest was exposed, Misaki’s hands quickly dropped to his fly, tugging the buttons open with a sort of fervour in her eyes. Her chest strained against the close-fitting fabric of her costume as her breath came in sharp pants. With a quick, jerky movement, she yanked Saruhiko’s jeans down, letting out a shuddering gasp as she freed his cock, then scrambled into his lap.

For once, Misaki didn’t hesitate. She wasted no time in wrapping her fingers around him and pressing the head of his cock to her entrance, then allowing her hips to sink downwards.

Saruhiko’s whimper of relief caught in his throat and Misaki let out a rapturous sigh as his cock slid into her. She instantly began to roll her hips against his, her fingernails digging into his shoulder for balance as, with the other hand, she kept his wrists pinned above his head. The desire to rake his eyes across every inch of Misaki’s body fought within Saruhiko against the desire to let them slide closed and allow the sensation to take him. But most of all, he yearned to wrap his arms around her, and he struggled weakly against the restraints, wanting to grab her and press her body as close to his own as he could.

He had no idea what had gotten into her; confidence seemed to be seeping into her skin from the dress now hitched up around her waist. Whether it was that she was unused to seeing herself dressed so suggestively, or the authority that came with the police costume, Saruhiko didn’t know, and in that moment, he didn’t really care, either. His thoughts were vague, hazy; nothing was sharp in his mind but the sensation of Misaki’s lips pressed to his throat and the heat, the delicious friction where their bodies met.

It was rare that he was lost for words in situations like this; he liked to tease her, murmur lewd things in her ear- it got her fired up. But right now, he couldn’t string more than three coherent syllables together:

“Misaki… _Misaki…”_ Her name tumbled past his lips between kisses, sometimes whispered, sometimes snarled.

Her hand slid under his shirt, clawing at his back as the couch creaked beneath their movements; he thrusted jerkily up into her every time she rocked her hips towards him, drawing strangled cries from her mouth, each one more difficult to suppress than the last until the sound caught in her throat and her body convulsed. Her head fell backwards in ecstasy and her nails clawing at his back.

“Saruhiko… I’m cumming…” She half-sobbed the words, her voice high and thin.

Saruhiko’s eyelids shot open as he felt her twitch and tighten around him, and he swore breathlessly, his voice giving out at the sensation. He had barely clung to the last shreds of his composure, but the way she tensed around him sent them slipping through his fingers, catapulting him over the edge. The air in his lungs felt as though it had frozen; until he’d finished emptying himself into her, the only way his body would move was the jerky, involuntary bucking of his hips. It was only when the final shockwave of his orgasm had subsided that he could he gasp for air.

Misaki slumped forward to bury her head in his shoulder, panting heavily. Her costume was dishevelled, and Saruhiko could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks.

They didn’t move until their breathing finally calmed somewhat. By then, the trembling in Misaki’s legs had subsided enough for her to lift her hips off his cock, though she seemed to do so with great effort. Saruhiko let out a whine of overstimulation as he slid out of her, and he saw her shudder as his cum dripped down her thighs and onto his stomach. After a moment, he heard another click above his head as Misaki unlocked the handcuffs, and they fell onto the ground behind the sofa with a clatter.

“Where did _that_ come from?” Saruhiko finally murmured, still breathless.

Misaki’s bashfulness seemed to make a resurgence all at once, and she let out a mortified whimper.

Saruhiko chuckled as she climbed unsteadily out of his lap and made her escape to the bathroom to clean herself off, undoubtedly trying to think of an explanation for what had just come over her.

 

Misaki returned a little while later in her pyjamas with her hair wrapped in a towel. She climbed onto the sofa and tucked herself under Saruhiko’s arm- by then, he too had cleaned the evidence of their encounter off himself and changed into some unsoiled clothes. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, then planted a kiss on her forehead.

“So, what _was_ that?” A faint, teasing smirk played across his lips.

Misaki’s blush had barely subsided, but she felt it crawling up her cheeks once more. “J-just wanted to prove Halloween isn’t just for kids…” she grumbled, then clumsily changed the subject. “So have you changed your mind about the party?” she asked, giving him an expectant look.

“…Was this all just a ploy to get me to go to the dumb Halloween thing?” He looked at her incredulously.

“N-no, of course not! …But _have_ you changed your mind?”

He rolled his eyes. “Not really.”

She huffed. “What if I wear that costume?”

“What makes you think I want to let my colleagues see you dressed like _that_?” He raised an eyebrow.

Misaki opened her mouth to protest, then hesitated; he was right- there was no way in hell she’d be comfortable wearing that thing in front of anyone else but him.

“I think you’d look pretty good in the Sceptre 4 uniform…” Saruhiko mused.

“Shut up,” she grumbled, elbowing him playfully. “And don’t change the subject.”

He shrugged. “Parties aren’t my scene, no matter what you’re wearing to them.”

“Alright, alright…” Misaki conceded. “We’ll do something else.”

* * *

As Misaki finished icing the last of the cupcakes she’d spent the afternoon baking, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She wiped the icing off her hands and perched on the edge of the kitchen table to read the message.

_Hidaka Akira [31/10/16 18:06]: Did you manage to convince Fushimi to come to this party tonight? He just left the office and he hasn’t mentioned anything about it all day._

_Yata Misaki [31/10/16 18:07]: Nah, I tried everything I could think of, but no dice. Sorry! I did get him to celebrate Halloween though, so that’s something. We’re having a night in watching scary movies instead._

Thankfully, Akira didn’t ask for any more detail on exactly what it was she tried.

_Hidaka Akira: [31/10/16 18:08] Sounds romantic haha! To be fair I didn’t think he’d want to do anything at all, so that’s an achievement. Hope you guys have a good night :)_

Misaki shot him a quick text thanking him and wishing him the same sentiment, then set about clearing away the mess she’d created in the process of making the cupcakes.

Saruhiko arrived home a little while later to find the apartment festooned with cotton cobwebs and lit only by the flickering of dozens of tealights dotted around the room. The air smelled of cinnamon from the cluster of cupcakes in orange cases sitting on a cooling rack, iced in a variety of somewhat haphazard Halloween-themed designs.

“They smell good,” Saruhiko commented as he kicked off his boots and hung his jacket up on the hook beside the door.

“Not as good as that,” Misaki responded, nodding to the plastic bag Saruhiko was carrying, which was stacked with plastic takeout containers. She caught him eyeing the cupcakes once more, and chided: “Oi, you have to eat the real food before the cake.”

“I’m not sure Chinese takeaway counts as ‘real food’,” Saruhiko countered.

“…Whatever, come sit down already, I’m hungry.”

Obediently, Saruhiko gathered a handful of cutlery from the kitchen and came over to sit down on the sofa, laying the tubs of food out on the coffee table. Misaki immediately made a grab for the fried rice, then groped around on the sofa for the remote control. It took her a moment to find it in the dark.

“Just turn the light on.”

“No.”

Once her fingers had closed around it, she hit play, and the word _“_ SCREAM” lit up the television screen and flashed red. The speakers rumbled with the sound of a gunshot and a somewhat artificial-sounding shriek.

Misaki nestled in against Saruhiko’s side as the movie began, shovelling fried rice into her mouth. Saruhiko reached for the container of chow mein and sat it on his knee, picking at it with a fork with one hand as he wrapped the other around Misaki’s shoulder and pulled her in close.  

“I definitely prefer this to some noisy party,” he commented.

Misaki nodded. While she probably would have enjoyed the party overall, she still wasn’t _totally_ enthused about spending an entire evening with the Blue clan, and she knew she wouldn’t have had fun if Saruhiko had spent the whole evening hating it. This way she still got to indulge her somewhat childish love of Halloween, even if it was just a Hallmark holiday, without sacrificing Saruhiko’s comfort. Cuddling on the couch and yelling at dim-witted horror movie protagonists to be the perfect compromise.

“Agreed.”


End file.
